User blog:Doggygirl10/Heavy Rain - Prologue
Prolugue My body is traveling at eighty-five miles per hour. I glance quickly out my window as the little drops of water hit it. When they dry, they will leave a scar, like today will. Upon the GPS are the words "Springwood ER". I am fifteen, and I am speeding through the highway to save my mom. I do not have much driving experience at all, but if this is my only chance to save my mom. I quickly pass a red pickup truck on my right , then a black Toyota. I look to the owner who is a female. This driver is talking on her phone. I watch to see her talking the whole time, and I think to myself that I would not care for being on the other end of that call. I then shift my gaze back to the road, where I find myself two yards away from the beginning of a guardrail. I didn't turn, I guess. The right front of the car gets impaled, and so does my left leg. My mom is lying across the back seats, so it didn't hurt her, I assume. The next thing that I remember is waking up to a bright light. I blink for a moment, trying to grasp the idea that I am alive, and then I bolt up, remembering my mother. I gasp at the sudden wave of pain in my leg, however, so I look down to find no leg. I then have to grasp another idea: that my leg will be gone forever. Two nurses come rushing in and try to calm me down. I ask them where my mother is, and they glance at each other. I then demand to know where she is, and if I can see her. They look back at me with worry, and hesitate, but then finally tell me that they are sorry, but she is dead. I survived, but she didn't. It is unfair. My mom, the woman who gave me life, is gone forever. For as long as I live on this earth, I will never again see her beautiful face, or her smooth hair, or hold her hands that were always cold, but I liked that, because they kept me warm. I look at the clock as they leave, for some reason unable to cry. 11:19 P.M. I will never forget those numbers. I remember something that my mom once told me. She said, "Just because your father doesn't care, doesn't mean he doesn't love." She kissed my hand and left after that. I wonder where my dad is right now. Probably at the bar, as always. I hope he gets hit by the train on the way here. Seeing him would kill me even more. My mom and I were sick of him every second he was with us. Never sober, never caring. I fell into a deep sleep in the middle of this thought, only to be awakened by a familiar voice. I open my eyes and there is my dad's face. All ugly from the effects of the alcohol. His very first words to my were: "So, you wrecked my car real good, heh?" I find my teeth clenched together, disgusted by his previous words. I lurch toward him in an aggressive manner, ignoring all of my pain in my leg. "How could you say that to me? Do you see me right now?!" I say almost whispering. "Do you know where mom is right now? She. Isn't. Here. Not anymore. She's gone!" I raise my voice. I'm aware of this so I lower it again. "Forever..." I trailed off. "But you probably don't care, right? You never loved her anyway!" I close my eyes, awaiting his hand to come into contact with my body. It has happened before. When I was fourteen, I revolted against my father. Didn't talk to him, didn't do anything he ordered, refused to interact to him in any way; until a rainy Tuesday. That's when it happened: his fist slammed my ribcage and rattled my heart. We got into a huge fight. Slamming doors, throwing things, breaking things, yelling and screaming until we ran out of breath, then we sucked up more oxygen and continued raising our voices. I took the bottle that I usually see in his left hand and threw it to the ground, dispersing many small shards of glass along the tile floor. His anger possessed him. I could see it in his eyes. He towered over me as he came nearer. I saw it coming before I actually saw it coming. His fist came closer and closer, and when it reached its destination, it left a huge impact. He broke two of my ribs and one of them almost peirced my heart. The doctor said that I was very fortunate that it didn't. However, one of the ribs had bounced backwards, putting pressure on my heart. Of course, my dad told me to make up a story to tell the doctor because if he knew the real story, my dad would be put in prison; and there's no beer in prison. So, I had just told the doctor that I fell face first off our trampoline, even though we don't have one. He seemed suspicious about it at first, but further into the appointment, her believed it, unfortunately. Now I have heart problems all the time and I have to get checkups for it monthly. After I had said what I did, he looked at me in a funny way then he looked to the floor. He knew it was the unfortunate truth. He looked at my leg and laughed. "A little stub! Nice!" His laughter died down and he looked at me. "Cassie," he started. I hate it when he said my name. "You know her blood is on your hands." "You know what? I've had enough of your drunken nonsense you dirty disgrace to this family!" My speech slowed down. The meds were working. The nurse came rushing back in, presumably because she heard yelling. My fists are clenched while I look at the nurse with angy eyes and finally manage to say something. "How did my mother die?" She bowed her head. "Cardiac arrest," she said. That's what she started going into this morning before I made the quick decision to try to save her. I looked at my father, who is silently laughing. I was about to say something to him until I drifted away from conciousness. Category:Blog posts